


So Cold and So Sweet

by housewithalemontree



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Gen, Introspection, Mostly about Argella, tw for suicidal thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-06
Updated: 2015-06-06
Packaged: 2018-04-03 02:56:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4083970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/housewithalemontree/pseuds/housewithalemontree
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The fresh air washed through her lungs and the cold rain pelted her arms and face as she gazed up at the darkening sky. The clouds swirled gray and purple above her. For the first time in so long she felt calm. Out here she was part of the storm. She was whole.</p>
            </blockquote>





	So Cold and So Sweet

**Author's Note:**

> Title from the song "Never Let Me Go" by Florence and The Machine. This doesn't have much of a plot but I just really love Argella and think she's a fascinating character. Edited and re-posted.

Argella had had enough of this gods-damned feast. Too many drunks and far too much silver hair, she thought as she stalked back to her chambers. How dare they. They stole her home and now they come into it and acted like honored guests. And she had no choice but to treat them as if they were. After all, she was little more than a prisoner now. A hostage to secure the Stormlands. Her fists clenched in the folds of her skirts as she walked even faster. She was angry. Angry and, as much as she hated to admit it, scared. She felt so alone here now. Alone and broken. Her people, as well as the Targaryens, had seen to that. She slowed her pace until she stopped near a window. No one else was in the hall. Leaning against the wall, all of the anger drained out of her. She was empty, numb. All the betrayal, the war, the false promises of safety. It was too much. Then she heard it. The patter of raindrops on stone. She stood up again, peering through the window. A storm. Thunder crashed in the sky, it's force renewing her energy. _Ours is the Fury._ She peered tentatively through the hallway. Still no one. She nearly rushed through the castle with a spirit she didn't know she still had in her. She headed towards the great curved wall. Climbing the stairs up to the top she could hear the sea responding to the storm, churning below.

She stepped out of the cover and onto the great stone wall. Around her it rained steadily, the waves crashing below. The wind was picking up and it lifted her damp hair off her neck. In the distance there was a flash of lightning, and then a great boom of thunder that shook her to the core. She breathed in, smelling rain, salt, and stone. The fresh air washed through her lungs and the cold rain pelted her arms and face as she gazed up at the darkening sky. The clouds swirled gray and purple above her. For the first time in so long she felt calm. Out here she was part of the storm. She was whole.

Her moment did not last long. She could hear his heavy footsteps on the stairs.

"Argella!" Orys called, shouting to be heard above the now billowing wind. He did not dare to step out into the rain. "Please, my lady, come inside"

She spun around to face him, knowing she must look quite fearful with her skirts snapping around in the wind and the storm's own fury in her eyes. Good, she thought, let him fear me. It was about time he did.

"Perhaps you are not comfortable out here, my lord, but I assure you that I am perfectly at home". She tried to speak calmly, to only lace her words with venom, but Argela could hear her voice shake with rage. It stung to have to call him a lord, even mockingly. There should be no lord of Storm's End, only a King. Or a Queen, she thought, sadness rising in her chest. She would have been their queen, if they hadn't betrayed her. A good ruler. It still stung, even though the bruises and scratches had healed.

"My lady, you will make yourself sick standing out here" he pleaded "Please come back inside".

"I am no lady." She spat at him. "I should have been a queen".

She was glad that the rain hid the tears welling in her eyes. He looked at her pityingly. She didn't want his pity. She just wanted him to leave her alone. To leave her castle. To give her back the sigil and words he took for his House Baratheon. To go away. Something in her snapped. Turning, she fled along the great wall into the rain. She couldn't move very fast in her soaked gown but she knew Orys would not follow her. Even if he did, he wouldn't be able to find her. She knew this castle twice as well as him. As she ran she let her tears fall freely for the first time since she had learned of her father's death. The rain washed them from her face. The wind snatched her ragged sobs and carried them into the howl of the storm.

She stopped, shaking from crying and the freezing rain. She felt her knees hit the wet stone, and then her hands. It was cold, but she held on to it as well as she could. She wished the storm would just wash her away, away from all this pain. She could almost do it. Fling herself into the ocean and end it all. Perhaps she would meet her father again. Her rash, stupid father who had given Aegon Targaryen an excuse to start the war he wanted. He should have been more careful with their kingdom.

But he had loved her. He called her his little storm and took her out to play in the rain. He may have been intimidating and gruff with others, but her father was always kind and warm to her. And when he had no sons he named her as his heir. He taught her how to rule, though now she never would. Orys kept trying to comfort her by saying that he had died honorably in battle. "That doesn't change the fact that he's dead", she thought, "And you killed him". She would never see his face again, never hear his laugh. They stole him, too.

But her father was not truly dead, not in her heart. She saw him in the great stone walls of Storm's End, in the stag that was now so mockingly crowned. She heard him in the waves beating against the rocks, never silent. He wouldn't want to see her like this.

"Get up" a voice inside her said "Argella, you must get up". The rain around her had calmed and was falling steadily. She knew she must look pathetic: the storm queen, kneeling on the ground. Her dress was ruined and her eyes red with tears. But she had to go on. She took a shaky breath and slowly got to her feet. Looking around, she saw that no one else was outside, thank the gods. It should be easy to get back to her room unseen, and then she could change and make herself presentable. Even if she was no longer a queen, she must still act like one. She wouldn't let them forget. Those Targaryens, with their fire and blood.

"Let them think they're safe. Ours is the fury, and someday they too shall fall".

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Any comments/suggestions are much appreciated. Feel free to visit my tumblr, if you want: 
> 
> http://housewithalemontree.tumblr.com


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